There was an old woman
There was an old woman who lived in her shoes,
Just held together by sewings and glues
She sat on the curb line, begging for bread,
Given a bagel and coffee instead
She had many children, but nowhere to go
Her shopping cart home and a backpack in tow
A tarp in her bag and a tear in her heart,
“The story’s the same, but different in start”
She’d lived and loved and laughed and guffawed,
Tried to be perfect but found she was flawed
A human in nature and human in thought,
Strugg’ling and fighting and lying for naught
Whipped very soundly and sent off to bed
Clean Street Crusaders, “She’s better off dead”
Grapp’ling composure, sun and heat in her name
Perforated panhandler preaching, “We’re all the same”